A Trio of Virtues: Cardinal Virtues
by Catlover
Summary: First Part of the Trilogy. After Superman finds himself in a life and death situation, will he accept the Dark Knight's help? Slash
1. Fortitude

Disclaimer: 

I do not now nor have I ever owned DC Comics, the characters of Superman, Batman or the Justice League

A Trio of Virtues

**Part I**

_Cardinal Virtues_

_...**Fortitude** is love readily bearing all things for the sake of the loved object;_

_**Justice** is love serving only the loved object, and therefore ruling rightly;_

_**Prudence** is love distinguishing with sagacity between what hinders it and what helps it;_

_**Temperance** is love giving itself entirely to that which is loved._

_- St. Augustine_

-{()}-

**Fortitude**

Lois Lane died on a Tuesday.

There was nothing anyone could do.

It was just one of those things.

-{()}-

Sadly, Superman never heard her screams because there never were any. As her team was ambushed, the result it had on her pulse caused him pause but didn't alarm him. Deeply imbedded with Coalition forces in Afghanistan, her rapid heartbeat was not unusual nor was the stress-filled rhythm found there. Superman learned after his last fly over that an angry Lois can be a scary thing. His presence, she contended, was a detriment to her getting the story. That last flyover was to be the last time, she insisted. Huddled inside a cave, pressed into a small recess, she reconsidered. But, it was too late. Just as she was about to cry for help, Taliban forces bombed the shaft. The falling stones hit her head first before proceeding to crush her entirely.

It was the lack of a heartbeat that alerted him first. He searched for it with his super-hearing. When that failed, he contacted the League. J'onn triangulated the location of her JLA GPS tracker and read him the coordinates. Upon arriving, the sight that greeted him was horrific. Crumbled rock and bloody bodies led up to the demolished cave. Layer by layer, he stripped out the rock until he found her lifeless body.

After a moment of personal grief, he wrapped her body in his cape and flew her to Metropolis. He deposited her in the coroner's office and left without saying a word. If one can stumble while flying, then he certainly did as he headed for their apartment. He flew in through the balcony doors and sealed himself away in the home they once shared at 1938 Sullivan Place.

Surrounded by anything that smelled of her, he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. He held his crumpled red cape against his nose and breathed in deeply. Tears ran for a while, but after a few minutes, they dried up, leaving only salty tracks behind.

That was how Batman found him.

After gaining access to the building through the roof, he used the utility elevator to reach the nineteenth floor. With a few flicks of his wrist and his trusty bat-pick, he easily unlocked Clark's door. He walked swiftly through the apartment until he reached the bedroom door. At the doorway, he came to a complete stop as their eyes met.

"Leave, Bruce. Now."

"No."

"Now!"

"What kind of a friend would I be if I did something like that?"

Letting the cape in his hands sag into a pile between his legs, Clark asked, "What are you going to do, Bruce? Are you going to save me? How are you going to do it, this time?"

Wordlessly, Batman pushed away from the doorjamb, entering the room a few inches at a time.

"There's no quick fix for this. She was my wife, and now, she's dead. We were supposed to have decades. Instead, we had a few short years. I never thought the end could come so soon."

At his final words, bells went off in Batman's mind. He inched ever closer to Clark.

"She was Human and so very fragile – Like all of you are. I knew what would happen. I knew she would die someday, most likely before me. I just never thought it would end like this."

Again, a bell rang through Batman's head.

Slowly, Clark laid his head back against the mattress. He looked at the ceiling and blinked a couple times before he spoke again. "Just leave, Bruce. I don't want anyone to see me like this. It'll be over soon. Then, you can come back and pick up what's left of me."

Coming to stand at Clark's feet, he stared at the large golden "S" shield on the broad chest and said, "This isn't all about Lois."

"No, it isn't."

"What is it then? I've never known you to be fatalistic."

"I'm not going to commit suicide if that's what you're thinking."

"Okay. I believe you."

A minute passed. Batman stood in silence. He waited patiently for Clark to finally look up at him. Once their eyes met, he watched sorrow boil over into rage.

"Why are you still here?" Pushing off the ground, he came to stand nose to nose with Batman. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Damn it, Bruce!" yelled Clark as he grabbed Batman by his Kevlar suit and slammed him against the wall. "I don't want to spend what little time there is left fighting with you. Can't you understand that?"

"No, I can't. So, explain it to me."

"I'm not human. Where loss is something you all learn to live with, for me, it's not that simple." Hanging his head, his strength ebbed away from him. His hands became gentle and slid down the gray fabric under his fingertips. Slowly, his hands fell, swinging weakly. Looking at the white slits in the cowl before him, he whispered, "Kryptonians mate for life."

"And?"

"And nothing. Once one of the bondmates dies, the other follows shortly thereafter. It is simply a matter of biology."

"Biology? Continue."

"A chemical dependency exists between the bonded pair. The condition requires they reestablish the bond on a regular basis. Once one bondmate dies, the bond can no longer be maintained. About a month or two later, the remaining partner succumbs to the chemical withdrawal."

"She's been gone a month already."

"I know."

"How long do you have?"

"I'm not sure. I held her close while I flew her body here, but that closeness didn't seem to help much. I have a few things that smell of her here but her scent is mostly faded. We've spent time apart before, but never more than a month. I suspect I have anywhere from a couple weeks to a month at the max."

"How long have you known?"

"Not long. When I married Lois, I was still feeling the effects of that whole mess with the sun-eater. I couldn't fly. I had no powers. I was married a month before I got back to the fortress. I told the computer I had gotten married and suddenly it starts telling me all this stuff about bondmates and death."

"That seems like a strange time to tell you something so important."

"Tell me about it," he agreed with a vigorous nodding of his head. Observing how Bruce's arms crossed tightly over his chest and the narrowed eye-slits of the cowl, he explained, "Honestly Bruce, the fortress does this sort of thing, a lot. It only gives me the information it thinks I need to know."

"What are your options?"

"There are no options."

"Bullshit," he growled as he pushed Clark away. He advanced as Clark staggered back. Once Clark sank down on his previous spot on the floor, Batman came to stand before him. "There are always options. You're just not willing to look for them. You'd rather wallow in self-pity. It's disgusting."

"Pardon my French, but fuck you, Bruce. I'm the one dying, not you. You have no idea what you're even talking about."

"Pitiful," he sneered as he turned his back on Clark and walked over to the doorway. About a foot away from leaving the room forever, he stopped. Turning fluidly, he faced Clark and said, "I refuse to believe that in the long history of your planet, two people never came to the conclusion that their lives would be better apart. There has to be a cure for this condition. There could be a supplement that mimics the bond's effects. Something that works like methadone for heroin addiction. There simply has to be."

"There was no divorce on Krypton. No known cases, anyway. There isn't even a word for it in Kryptonian. As for a drug, the fortress isn't aware of any. After Lois found out about the bond, she wanted a cure or something that wouldn't require her to be tied down to a time limit. The fortress informed me that no artificial supplement had ever been developed. I had the fortress attempt to develop some kind of work around. It never could. There's only one alternative –"

"What is it?"

"It's impossible to implement now."

"Tell me what it is anyway."

"After the death of one partner, the remaining partner would replace the bond."

"Replace?"

"They would bond with a new person. It was rare but sometimes people got sick or one was considerably older. Traditionally, a substitute would be found by the bondmates together and an emotional connection would be forged in the weeks leading up to the person's death. That emotional connection was necessary so that the substitute bond would be strong enough to completely replace the preexisting bond."

"Okay, so we need to find you someone. I can do that."

"Listen, it's not that easy. It takes time to forge an emotional bond with someone and I don't have that kind of time."

"You need someone with whom you already have an emotional connection. I recommend Wonder Woman."

"Well, isn't that nice of you? I'd say we should ask her first, but I know that can't work. Lois was jealous of the time I spent with Diana. She knew Diana and I had a complicated past. It would feel like a betrayal and the guilt would most likely block the new bond from forming. I'm not going to sully the love I hold for Lois with something I'm fairly sure won't work."

"There are other female members of the league."

"Only the original members know my secret identity. Considering that this person would have to become a large part of my life, it would also have to be someone I'd feel comfortable bringing into my whole life."

"Can it be any race?"

"Yes, only a Kryptonian would be susceptible to the deadly side effects of the bond."

"Does it have to be a female?"

"No."

"To establish a bond, do you have to have sex?"

"Yes. It's the only way. Once established, the bond can feed off of close contact alone, but intercourse is required the first time."

"But, it can't just be with anyone?"

"No. Being Kryptonian, I doubt very much I'm even capable of casual sex."

Pausing for a moment, Batman made his mind process the incredible implications contained within the previous exchange. Slowly, he stroked his chin and rolled the information around in his mind.

"Again, I suggest Diana. One call to the Watchtower and she'll be here within a few hours. If it'll help, I'll also pay for some intense psychotherapy to help you sublimate your feelings of guilt."

That got a laugh. Looking up at Batman, he said, "I don't think I have sufficient time for psychotherapy to have any real benefit. I thank you for trying, Bruce. You're a good friend. We've been through a lot and it feels good to know that you're not willing to give up on me."

"Is Diana definitely out of the question?"

"Yes."

"Then, I nominate myself."

"What?"

"It's the only logical solution left. We're friends therefore we already share an emotional connection. Also, as far as I know, Lois never thought badly of me. In fact, I think she liked me. Diana is out because of your emotional hang-ups. John and Shayera are already in a relationship with each other and therefore are eliminated due to prior commitments. That leaves J'onn, Wally and me. If you'd feel more comfortable with one of them then I can go find him and bring him here."

"No! No, Bruce. You're right. You are the best nominee but you're looking at a life long commitment. I've never known you to even have a short-term relationship. Are you sure that you can do this?"

"Since only you would bear the biological ramifications of the bond, I don't have to worry about it getting in the way of my mission. As for the rest, I consider it a small price to pay."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," he replied, as he knelt down at Clark's feet and began to tug at the bat-suit he was wearing.

"I thought you were straight."

"I've had encounters with both men and women," he replied with a shrug. Pulling off his gloves, he placed them on the ground side-by-side. Next, he unbuckled his utility belt and neatly folded it, placing it gently across the gloves. "Have you ever been with a man?"

"No."

"Then let me lead," he answered matter-of-factly. Reaching out his hands, he grasped Clark's knees and gently parted them.

"I'm not so sure about this, Bruce."

The hands on his knees stilled before they lifted off entirely. Following their fluid movement, Clark watched as those same hands pealed back the cowl, revealing the hidden face of his best friend. Next, off came the cape. Neatly folded, those same steady hands placed the cape and cowl on top of the belt and then immediately returned to his knees. There, they paused for a moment before the right one reached forward and gripped his chin, forcing Clark to meet Bruce's determined eyes.

"Clark, you're my best friend and I'm a man who doesn't have many friends. I'm not about to add you to the list of people I've lost if there's anything I can do to prevent it." As he spoke, Bruce slipped between shaking thighs. Rubbing at the tension in the muscles under his fingertips, his left hand made its way from knee to thigh to arm to rest beside its mate at the chiseled jaw line. "I need you to want this, Clark. If you can't work up a little enthusiasm for me then do it for the world. The world needs a Superman and I'm offering a way for you to give the world what it needs."

A nod of the head was all Bruce received in response. It was all the consent he required. Quickly, he descended on Clark, using his wet lips, nimble fingers and considerable skill to pull off their suits and drag them up off the floor. In the middle of the bed, naked skin to naked skin, he wore away at Clark's reluctance. Sensing innocence, he covered them with a thin sheet. Tasting naiveté in every kiss, he slowed down, giving Clark a chance to catch up.

However, the Man of Steel's resolve didn't last long. Some twenty minutes later, he wrenched free of Bruce's embrace. Sitting up in bed, his head in his hands, he said, "I can't do this. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry, Bruce, but I just can't."

"What brought this on?" asked Bruce. Sitting up, he let the sheet pool around his waist as he leaned toward the heat emanating from the body beside him. "You seemed to be enjoying everything."

"It's not that. You're very experienced and it shows. It really does, Bruce, and that's part of the problem. This feels like a one night stand. I can sense the impermanence of it all. Everything we're doing here is to bide time. That's all and that's not enough. I've never just had sex with someone. I don't want to and, if I did, it probably wouldn't be good enough to replace the bond."

Taking a hold of Clark's shoulder, Bruce waited until blue eyes met his own before he asked, "So, what you need is for me to make love to you?"

For the second time that night, a nod was all the response he received. Again, it was all he needed. Running his hand up the back of Clark's neck, he threaded his fingers into thick black hair and whispered, "I can do that."


	2. Justice

**Justice**

As sleep slipped away, the first thing he noticed was the warm body beside him. His right arm was draped across a solid torso, his hand resting on a firm stomach. As the memory of last night filled his mind, his hand started making slow, gentle circles. Lifting up on his left elbow, he stared at how the skin beneath his fingers danced. There had been people in his life for which he cared. He even thought he made love to a couple of them. Now, he knew how wrong he was.

In romantic novels, there are often references made to how two people made slow, sweet love to each other. Such clichés had always been rubbish in Bruce's mind – Frivolities best left to weaker minds. Now, he realized there was no other way to describe what they had done.

His mind raced over the drawn out kisses. His body remembered the gentle way Clark held him and the checked power behind each thrust. Finally, he recalled how, shaking like a leaf, he had collapsed beside Clark. A hint of a smile tugged his lips upward as he realized he let Clark do something last night that no one else had ever been allowed to do – Cuddle. Arms wrapped around each other. Legs intertwined. They kissed lazily until sleep claimed them.

Staring blindly forward, he came back to the present. His eyes traveled from his hand to the broad chest above, coming to rest on his lover's handsome face. There, he found open eyes. They merely stared at each other for a moment until Clark reached up and cupped Bruce's cheek. Pulling him down, they kissed slowly again and again. Pulling away, Bruce looked deeply into bright blue eyes as Clark whispered, "Good Morning."

Smiling easily, Bruce sat up and stretched. Moaning from his aching muscles, he quipped, "I feel like I've gone a couple rounds with Clayface."

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not."

Laughing lightly, Bruce threw back the sheet and deeply inhaled. On his feet a moment later, he crossed the room and started pulling on his Bat-suit. Sitting up, Clark watched him pull on his boots. As the utility belt clicked into place, he asked, "Do you have to leave so soon?"

"I need to get back to the manor." After adjusting his gloves, he reached for his cape and cowl. "I haven't checked in since I got here. I don't like to worry Alfred. Besides, I left Dick out there by himself. I need to check on him."

"I understand."

Out of bed, Clark pulled on some boxers and followed Batman out of the room. Reaching out to grasp his shoulder, he stopped the quick exit. Looking back, Batman saw the questions in Clark's eyes. With a sigh, he squared his shoulders and asked, "Do you think it worked?"

"Yes. I can feel it. This bond feels different from the one I shared with Lois."

"Good." He saw those same questions start to bubble to the surface. Quickly, he slammed a lid down on them. "When is the funeral?"

"In three days. My parents should be here soon to help with the arrangements."

Nodding, Batman grabbed onto the hand on his shoulder. He held it tightly for a few seconds before letting go and walking toward the front door. As he disappeared from sight, he called back, "I'll see you soon, Clark."

-{()}-

"Did Bruce ever come home last night, Alfred?" asked Dick as he took the offered cup of coffee.

"I'm afraid not, Master Dick."

As luck would have it that was the very moment that they heard the grandfather clock passage open. Calmly, Dick sipped at his coffee. Quickly, Alfred was back at the counter packing sandwiches, chopped fruit and a small thermos of coffee into a lunch tote. As Bruce entered the room, they raised their eyes.

"You okay, Bruce?" asked Dick. Setting down the cup on the matching saucer, he took in the disheveled appearance. Anyone else would have seen nothing but polish. Not Dick. He saw the way Bruce's hair flipped slightly at the ends and the usual hair gel was no where to be seen. There were worry lines around his eyes that Dick couldn't recall ever seeing before.

A gruff "I'm fine" was the only response he received.

"By the way, where were you last night? I checked in twice, but you never responded?"

Slowly, Bruce pulled his chair out and sat down. "Did something go down that you couldn't handle?"

"No." Sitting up straighter, Dick took a sip from his cup. "In fact, there must have been a villain convention out-of town because God knows – nobody was on the streets last night."

"Good," growled Bruce as Alfred placed another cup and saucer on the table.

"So?"

"What?"

"Where were you?"

"It's none of your business."

"Bruce-"

"I said leave it!" he ordered. With a loud slam, his fist made contact with the tabletop, causing the coffee Alfred was pouring to spill. Immediately, Alfred had a cloth lapping up the coffee with one hand as he placed the half-empty cup in front of Bruce with the other. Glancing at the cup, Bruce glared at Alfred, but said nothing.

"Well, excuse me for caring," sneered Dick. Standing up, he kicked back his chair. "It's too early in the morning for this. I'm out of here. I need to get to school, anyway."

"Master Dick?"

The voice alone was enough to stop him in his tracks. The sympathetic eyes finished the job. Righting his chair, Dick tipped back the remains of his coffee. Placing the cup back on its saucer, he picked up the set and handed it over to Alfred. "Thanks for the coffee, Alfred."

"You're quite welcome," replied Alfred as he took the saucer. Turning around, he placed the set on the counter and reached for the lunch tote. Turning back to Dick, he handed the bag to him. "I packed a breakfast for you and Miss Gordon."

"Thanks, Alfred. You're the best. I better get out of here now. She's expecting me to meet her at the library."

After Dick's footsteps were a distant echo, Alfred turned to his charge, the man currently fleeing from the room. "Master Bruce, is there some way I might be of service?"

"No, there is not!" He took three steps after he made his outburst. Then, he came to a slow stop. The wind completely gone from his sails, he turned to Alfred and said, "Alfred. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just been a long day, already."

"Understood, sir."

He headed for the door, but stopped short. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as Alfred placed the cups and saucers in the sink. As Alfred wiped off his hands, Bruce asked, "Alfred?"

"Yes, sir."

"I need you to clear my calendar for this Sunday."

"Do you have a prepared story for why you are otherwise occupied?"

"Tell them the truth, if you must." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned around. After a moment, he met Alfred's eyes. "I'll be attending Lois Lane's funeral."

"Very good, sir," he replied with only the slightest hint of surprise in his voice. His eyes displayed the eternal patience they always did. "Will you be in need of a driver?"

"I can take care of it myself, thank you, Alfred."

"Allow me to offer my services, sir." Taking a few steps forward, Alfred didn't stop until he stood mere inches away. "The drive to Metropolis will likely be complicated by gridlock and cemeteries are such unfortunate places."

Placing a hand on Alfred's arm, Bruce whispered, "That would be fine then, Alfred. Thank you."

"My pleasure, sir."

-{()}—

Per Lois' final wishes, they didn't have a viewing. Once while investigating a story involving dishonest funeral homes, she told Clark that the very thought of a viewing made her want to punch somebody. She wanted nothing to do with the practice. Burials were different. Those were practical in her mind. So, those she left behind honored her wishes as best they could.

Consequently, her burial took place one Sunday afternoon in early June under a clear, blue sky. What would normally take minutes stretched out for over an hour as people took turns eulogizing from the head of the casket. On one side of the casket, there stood her family. The other side held a couple dozen guests – they made up a hodge-podge of Lois' closest friends, her business contacts and personal acquaintances.

On the family side, her husband stood, flanked by his parents. He endured the whole affair in silence, his head bowed. Just once, he glanced from one side to the other. To his left, he saw his father and beside him the Lanes – Samuel, Elinore and Lucy. To his right, he looked down to see his mother's tear-filled eyes. As he hugged her tightly, he allowed himself to look across the casket.

Standing in the front row, Bruce stared back intensely like he'd been waiting for Clark to look at him for some time. As their eyes met, the whole world fell away. Perry White's eulogy became a garbled mess as Bruce's eyes conveyed concern and strength. Quickly, Clark gave an almost imperceptible nod that was instantly returned. Standing straighter, he took a deep breath before he ducked his head down for the remainder of the service.

Afterwards, everyone passed the Lanes and the Kents, offering their condolences. One of the first was Bruce Wayne. He quickly passed the Lanes, giving the standard line. Approaching the Kents, he slowed considerably. Walking up to Clark, he sighed loudly. Squaring his shoulders, he ran a hand through his hair. In the time it took to brush away those stray locks, the playboy stepped to the forefront. Extending his hand, he shook hands with Clark, barely giving Ma and Pa Kent a wayward glance.

"Clark, right? My condolences. Y'know... For your loss. Lois was an amazing woman."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"By the way, how long are you planning to be out of work?"

"I should be back in the office on Wednesday, but if I'm needed I'm sure I could come in sooner."

"Good. I can't have both of my star reporters being no-shows for too long." Clapping his hands together, he looked from one Kent to the other before finally nodding his head. "Well, I'll just be going. It's a long drive back to Gotham."

As he walked away, Martha Kent asked, "Who was that?"

"Ma, that was my boss, Bruce Wayne. He owns the Daily Planet."

"Oh. Well, he's just an awful man."

-{()}—

"I'll have you know that my Mom thinks you're a jerk," he said as he landed softly on a Gotham rooftop.

Not even looking up, Batman shrugged as he continued to kneel on the roof's edge, looking at the streets below.

"Were your ears burning at all yesterday? She couldn't stop ranting about you on the ride back to my apartment."

Standing up, Batman made a brief sweep of the area. Crossing the roof, he growled, "You shouldn't talk about such personal things when we're on duty."

"There's no one around. Believe me. I checked."

"Still, one can never be too careful."

"Okay." Taking a few steps forward, he invaded Batman's personal space. Bowing his head, he whispered, "I really need to talk to you about something. Something personal."

"Meet me at the bat cave in four hours," he said as he pulled out his grappling gun. Shooting out the hook, he swung away without looking back.

-{()}—

Six hours later, he pulled into the bat cave. Quickly, he parked the batmobile and jumped out. Crossing over to his computer console, he noticed the coffee mug on the desktop and the empty, crumb covered plate beside it. Spinning his chair around, he faced impatient eyes without flinching.

"What happened to 'meet me in the bat cave in four hours'?"

"Two jewelry heists, one hijacked armored truck that turned into a hostage situation and a break in at Gotham National Bank."

"Joker?"

"Penguin."

"Well, I guess I can't be too mad then." Taking the nearby mug in hand, he drank the rest of the contents. Lowering the mug, he licked his lips before he commented, "Alfred makes a mean cup of coffee."

"You had some personal issues that you needed to discuss."

"Oh yeah." Placing the mug gently down, he stood up. With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked past Batman. Turning around, he said, "My parents are very important to me. Their opinion is even more so. It bothers me that my mother thinks so poorly of you, especially when I know it was all just an act."

"She wouldn't be the first woman to think that way of me."

"She's not just any woman, Bruce. She's my Mom."

"I do have a secret identity to maintain."

"I get that. I do. I don't exactly wear black frame glasses because I'm near-sighted." Closely, he watched the white slits in the cowl narrow. "Still, you're my bondmate, now. I want you in my life when we're not in tights. That will be considerably more difficult if my parents hate you."

"And do they?"

"Do they what?"

"Hate me."

"N-No. Not yet," Clark stuttered. Looking at the masked face before him, all the old feelings of frustration washed over him again. He realized suddenly that their new connection hadn't changed the easy way Bruce threw him off balance with a few small words or a simple gesture. "My father never judges a man until he shakes his hand. He says there's a lot to be learned from a handshake. As for my Mother, she's pretty livid, right now, but I think her opinion can be salvaged. The important thing with her is to jump on these things early."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I'd like you to come over to my apartment tomorrow night. I'd like the three of you to meet before my parents go home. And I don't mean playboy Bruce. I want them to meet the real you."

"You mean to say…"

"You can trust them."

"You want to tell them Bruce Wayne is Batman." Turning his back on Clark, he walked over to the suit cabinet and started to disrobe. Behind him, he could hear Clark make his case.

"They're clearly trustworthy. They managed to raise an extra-terrestrial in a small town without a single rumor. If you had any experience with small towns, you'd realize how amazing that is."

The suit left behind, Bruce pulled on a pair of charcoal grey slacks and a thin, long-sleeve black shirt. Turning back to Clark, he held up his right hand. As silence filled the cave, Bruce said, "Okay."

"Really?" asked Clark just before his mouth fell open in shock.

"Yes." Despite himself, he couldn't hold back a small smile that stretched his lips. Crossing the room, he pressed the back of his fingers to Clark's chin, closing his mouth with an audible click.

-{()}-

"Are you absolutely sure about this darling?"

"For the thousandth time, Mom, he's really not as rude as he was at the cemetery. That was just his public face. It's part of his secret identity."

A firm hand patted his shoulder. Looking to his right, he saw his Father's sympathetic smile. Jonathan Kent patted his son's arm a couple times and said, "Let me have a moment alone with your Ma, son."

After Clark retreated to his bedroom, Jonathan sat down on the sofa and looked up at Martha. In her face, he saw hurt, anger and loss. Shaking his head, he patted the seat beside him. "Martha, now you just need to leave the boy alone. He explained everything this morning. He doesn't need to be repeating himself."

Sitting down on the sofa, Martha wrapped her arms around herself. She felt so cold. As tremors danced across her skin, she felt familiar arms surround her, pulling her back against a strong, secure chest. As she sank against the welcoming warmth, she couldn't keep the sob from her voice. "We only buried Lois two days ago. She hasn't even been dead a week. Now, the polished jackass who showed himself at her funeral is coming here. He's taken her place with our son and now he wants to do the same with us. I don't know if I can bear it."

"You can, Martha Clark Kent. As surely as we've borne every curveball life has ever given us, we'll get through this, too. I know you miss Lois. I miss her, too, but I can't shake just a touch of gratitude towards this Mr. Wayne for what he did for Clark. He really did save our boy's life. Try to hold onto that, tonight."

Intertwining their fingers together, Martha leaned back completely into her husband's embrace. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes met his and she smiled. "You always bring me back to my senses."

"And I always will," he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

A few knocks interrupted them. Instantly, Clark came out of his bedroom, heading for the front door. Taking the doorknob in his hand, he glanced back at his parents. His eyes zeroed in on his mom until she nodded. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

Arms hanging at his sides, Bruce stood in the doorway. He wore a tailored, dark blue suit, a matching silk tie and a pair of black loafers. His hair was perfectly combed and, for a second, Clark worried that this was the playboy and not the real Bruce Wayne. A theory quickly dispelled when Bruce looked at him and smiled.

Looking past Clark, Bruce's eyes fell on Martha and Jonathan Kent. As they got off the coach, he watched Martha smooth out her skirt and fiddle with her hair before glancing at Jonathan and the casual way he stood beside her. Turning his eyes back to the man at the door, Bruce smiled again and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Clark replied as he waved his right arm out. "Sorry. I guess I just got distracted."

Something between a smile and a smirk crossed Bruce's face as he walked in and waited for the door to close. Once inside, he wasted no time in crossing the room. As he approached the Kents, he extended his hand, looked Martha straight in the eye and said, "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mrs. Kent. Clark's told me so much about you, I feel as if we've already met."

Embarrassed by the red she felt filling her cheeks, she placed her hand in his. She marveled at the roughness of the callused skin on an otherwise refined man. Her attention caught up in his icy blue eyes, she limply allowed her hand to be lifted to his lips. As he brushed a light kiss on the back of her hand, the red in her cheeks deepened. All at once, she felt the loss of his touch as he straightened up and pulled away.

Turning to Jonathan Kent, Bruce frowned at the suspicious look in the man's eyes. Extending his hand, he found Jonathan met him halfway. The handshake was firm but not tense. Their clasped hands nudged back and forth casually. Their eyes locked on each other, quietly assessing each other. In the end, they pulled away at the same moment as if they practiced it that way.

Watching from the front door, Clark marveled at the scene unfolding before him. The measured movements and even motions. Even Bruce's heartbeat was completely stable and unflinching. Did Bruce ever get nervous? Now, he just wasn't sure. The man was just as confident and unwavering while charming his parents as he was when he faced down the Joker. Shaking his head, he pushed off the door and joined them in the living room.

The layout had changed. Now, the sofa faced the small couch from the bedroom instead of the TV. The four shifted until Bruce and Clark were in front of the sofa and the Kents were in front of the couch. Together, they sat down. Looking back and forth, an uncomfortable silence fell. Finally, Martha coughed once. With all eyes on her, she looked back at Bruce and said, "Tell us something about you, Mr. Wayne."

"What do you want to know?"

"You could explain some of the things I've seen in the news."

"What exactly would those things be?"

Sitting back, she brushed her arm against Jonathan. Placing her clasped hands in her lap, she sighed loudly before she said, "I remember reading about your parent's death. I remember Clark was about your age at the time. It made me realize that our advanced age put us at risk of doing much the same to him. The whole incident compelled us to finally go and get life insurance and buy exercise equipment. Do you remember that, Jonathan? Oh of course, you do. Don't shake your head that way."

Glancing over at Bruce, Clark watched as his jaw started to set. He saw his lips press together until they left only a thin line. Jumping into the conversation, he asked, "Mom, is this going anywhere?"

"Oh yes. What happened to you, after that? There wasn't much about you in the news after their deaths. Then suddenly, you were a grown man and being voted People's Sexiest Man of the Year."

Silently, Bruce sat on the sofa. Recalling that dark time, he could see the ghost of his younger self. Nine years old and alone in the world, he fell to his knees at Alfred's feet. He could still feel the coarse fabric of the tweed overcoat; how it scratched at his skin. His hands clutched into fists at the memory of how he clutched at that jacket, digging his fingers in as he begged the man to stay. As the memory of Alfred's comforting arms encircled him, Bruce felt a soothing hand wrap around his fist. Focusing on the warmth surrounding him, he answered, "I was raised by one of my Father's employees."

"That's unusual," added Martha.

"I suppose."

"Was there no family who could take you?"

"I had some distant relation in Europe, but I didn't know them very well. I still don't know them terribly well."

"I see," replied Martha. Pursing her lips, she returned the elbow in her side. Undeterred, she pursued her prey. "I read recently – I don't remember where – that you have two sons. I haven't heard anything about a Mrs. Wayne, though."

"There never was a Mrs. Wayne," answered Bruce as he shifted in his seat. Glancing at Clark, he saw the apology there and it made him sigh. "My sons are not my biological children. They're adopted."

Instantly, Martha perked up. She smiled widely as she sat forward, "Really? What are their names? How old are they? What do they do?"

First, Bruce paused to cough. As he lowered his fist, he snuck in a glare at Clark. "My oldest son's name is Richard. He just finished his sophomore year at Gotham University."

"As for my younger son, Jason, he died last year."

Immediately, Martha's left hand grabbed onto Jonathan's knee as her right hand fluttered up to her chest. "I'm so very sorry to hear that."

For his part, Bruce stared at the floor and refused to look up. Even when the hand covering his squeezed, he concentrated on the basic, beige Berber – His mind filled with the memory of a broken body cradled in his arms. Finally, he felt Clark place a firm hand on his shoulder. As he lifted his eyes to Clark, he heard Clark say, "Mom. Dad. Did I ever tell you that Bruce was one of the founding members of the Justice League?"

Finally finding his voice, Jonathan replied, "No, son. You haven't. That's very interesting. Isn't that interesting, Martha?"

"Yes. Very interesting. Do you two work together a lot?"

"Yes, we do," answered Bruce, pushing away dark thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Do you remember, Bruce, that time you were kidnapped by Lex Luthor and that villain squad?"

"Yes."

"You never did tell me how you got out of that. By the time the League got there, you were already loose and knocking out the Joker."

"As I told the Joker, I could have escaped anytime."

"How is that?"

"The titanium body shackles they put on me were WayneTech military grade special issue. I was personally involved in the product's development. I knew everything there was to know about it."

"There were seven of them. The greatest criminal threat of our time. I still don't know how you managed to come out of that without so much as a scratch."

"Well, Clark, as you and J'onn like to remind me – I'm only human, the only founding member of the league without powers. I can't fly and bullets don't bounce off of me. So, I used what I had – cunning and gentle manipulation. The only one who ever concerned me was the Joker. Luckily, Luthor kept him in check. Lex was far too focused on trying to kill you. In fact, he barely noticed I was there. Sapphire and Shade had no intention of doing anything they weren't paid to do and they weren't hired to kill me. Grundy was easily manipulated with greed and doubt. Ultrahumanite could be reasonable and bought for the right price. As for Cheetah, well, she's not an unattractive woman and I can be charming when I want to be."

"Well, we've seen that first hand," quipped Martha. "You poured on the charm when you arrived here."

"I had to make up for that lousy first impression."

"I can assure you, Mr. Wayne. That first impression is water under the bridge."

Conversation flowed easily between them after that. For an hour, they spoke about anything, everything and nothing at all. Clark played the good host, serving drinks when requested. Martha managed to get Bruce to laugh with a story about Clark's awkward stage. After that, Bruce loosened his tie and spread his legs out. As always, Jonathan remained the quiet calm in the eye of the storm.

For her part, Martha kept watching Bruce and Clark. She noticed the way her son faltered ever so slightly every time Bruce smiled at him. She followed Clark's eyes and usually found them latched onto Bruce. During a recount of one of the Justice League's recent cases, she watched her son inch closer to the man seated beside him.

In front of her very eyes, her magnificent son mumbled awkwardly, a hitch in his voice that she was sure only she could hear. Tilting her head, she rested her chin on her fist. She fought the urge to shake her head as she watched him stumble as he handed Bruce a glass of wine. Sitting back, she rolled until she pressed up against her husband's side. She slowly tugged on his hand until he wordlessly raised it, letting her wriggle against his chest. Relaxing against the drumbeat of his heart, she acknowledged the emotions she saw dancing in her son's eyes. Closing her own eyes, she sent up a prayer for Bruce Wayne to be gentle.

Two hours later, the evening came to an abrupt end. A soft snore mixed with a loud intake of air. Looking over at the couch, Bruce and Clark chuckled lightly at the sight of the pair curled up fast asleep. It was only then that they realized they were the only ones talking for the past hour.

Bruce was the first to stand. With a finger to his lips, he pointed at the front door. One short nod later, they made their way out to the hallway where Clark waited until he pulled the door completely closed before he spoke.

"Thank you for tonight."

"It was my pleasure," replied Bruce. He lips stretched into a wide smile as he continued, "It was at one point the most fun I've had in a long time and at other times more uncomfortable than being in a room alone with Poison Ivy."

"Well, I'm glad it wasn't all bad. I should probably apologize for some of my mom's questions. I didn't realize she'd go so far as to-"

"Don't," whispered Bruce. Pressing two fingers against Clark's lips, he paused when he felt a soft kiss against his fingertips. Meeting Clark's gaze, he let his fingers glide down past a chiseled chin.

Leaning forward, Clark softly pressed a kiss against Bruce's lips. He watched Bruce's eyes close before he deepened the kiss. Drawing the moment out, Clark stilled when he felt feather light touches on his chin. Pulling back, he met the intense eyes before him. Swallowing hard, he said, "I want you in my life. I want more moments like this one."

Instantly, Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"There just has to be a way."

"You do know that Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent have no logical reason to ever be in the same room, don't you? You work at a newspaper owned by Wayne Enterprises. You live in a building I sort of own through an affiliate. That's it. That's all. We don't even live in the same city."

The quiet way Clark took a step back was his only response. Biting his lip, Bruce weighed his options. He could offer pipedreams. He could make promises he never intended to keep. Instead, he looked into eyes of the most amazing blue and whispered, "Let me roll the idea around for a bit. I might be able to come up with something."

A warm smile became his only reward. As he turned and walked toward the elevator, Bruce decided it was reason enough to try.


	3. Prudence

**Prudence**

The moment he entered the Daily Planet pressroom, he wished that he'd just stayed home. Everyone in the room stopped in their tracks as he exited the elevator. Every face belonged to a friend. Every eye filled with sympathy. The normally chaotic space stilled for a moment as all attention shifted toward him. They meant well. He knew that. Unfortunately, all their good intentions dealt very real blows. The comforting pats on his arm felt like punches. Their sympathetic words crashed painfully against his eardrums. From the front receptionist to the pressroom newsboy, Clark learned quickly to issue an accepting nod and a whispered, "I'm fine, really."

Once he reached his desk, he faced an even greater challenge – Lois' desk. Taking a deep breath, he turned his head and looked directly at it. For a second, he saw her. A mess of tucked back hair and a wicked smile, she looked up from her keyboard and said, "Hey there, Smallville, what's with the long face? Did you have to put down your prize cow, or something?"

With a shake of his head, her image faded. In its place, he found a box. At some point, a kind-hearted person had tried to spare him the pain of packing up her things. Of course, the result was that the desk looked nothing like the managed madness that Lois usually kept. Where were the piles of memos? Where was the rolodex that couldn't close due to all the post-its and scraps sticking out of it? Instead, the surface looked wiped clean of everything except the memory of her.

Sitting down at her desk, he tapped his fingers on the cardboard box. Activating his x-ray vision, he saw the family pictures and her nameplate. He saw a few files and that old rolodex. Staring at the box, he marveled how something so small could hold the odds and ends of a woman so much larger than life.

Suddenly, a crowd formed at the doors of the pressroom. The throng seemed intent on a single individual. Easily, the subject of such adoration cut a path out of the center of the swarm. Emerging unscathed, he lost no time heading directly for the one he came to see. A few feet away, he slowed down. As he took those last few steps, he watched Clark stand up and lean against Lois' desk.

"Mr. Wayne?" asked Clark as he extended his hand.

"Mr. Kent." Quickly, Bruce shook his hand. Flashing a cocky grin, Bruce turned to see Perry White come out of his office. Quickly, he focused on the Editor-in-Chief. "Mr. White, sorry for all the commotion, but I have some business to discuss with Mr. Kent. You wouldn't mind if I borrowed him for a while, would you?"

Bringing his hands up, Perry never got the chance to reply. Instantly, Bruce took a hold of Clark's left arm and started to guide him from the room. As they passed Perry, he waved him off with a single, fluttery gesture of his left hand. "Of course, you don't. Don't worry. I'll have him back within the hour."

Quickly, they made their way to the elevator where Bruce made sure they were the only ones to enter the car. As the doors closed on the shocked faces of his co-workers, Clark turned to Bruce and said, "Was all that really necessary?"

"Yes," replied Bruce as he stared at the elevator doors, never once meeting Clark's eyes.

Quietly, they rode the elevator down to the basement. The doors opened and they walked out to find a limo waiting, the engine idling. The driver side door opened and Alfred appeared. He opened the passenger door and waited for them to enter. Still clutching a firm forearm, Bruce pushed Clark into the car. They sat down, making themselves comfortable on the soft leather seat cushions as Alfred closed the door behind them and returned to the driver's seat. As the car drove away, Bruce flashed a warm smile and quipped, "Are you still sure that you want me in your life?"

"Is that what all this was about? A test?"

"Not at all. While it does work quite convincingly as a wake-up call, this is actually a business meeting."

"A business meeting?"

"Yes, I have a proposition for you. As a wealthy businessman, I'm always looking for charitable commitments to use as tax shelters. It doesn't hurt if these commitments also result in Wayne Enterprises getting a little positive press at the same time. With that aim in mind, I've decided to start a new scholarship fund in Lois Lane's name. The parameters of the scholarship still have to be hammered out, but we can do that together. Of course, there will be time commitments – A few meetings a month, maybe more. There will be three, maybe four, charity dinners, a couple interviews with the press and at least one gala. What do you say?"

"I'm not sure what to say," replied Clark as he glanced at Alfred.

"You can speak freely here, Clark. Alfred is just like your parents – Completely trustworthy."

"I see," he whispered. He watched as the otherwise proper butler smirked for a second as he quickly glanced over his shoulder.

"I thought this was what you wanted."

"It is. I do. I mean… I do want you in my life, Bruce. I guess I just never realized exactly what that meant. Do I have to settle for the playboy routine on a regular basis?"

"Yes. The playboy is a necessary evil. We can't all be like you, Clark. When you're Superman, you're the almighty, powerful being you were born to be. When you're Clark Kent, you're the shy, good-hearted man your parents raised you to be. One is completely different from the other, yet exactly who you are. My situation is different. Batman, in the end, is just a man with a lot of very intricate gadgets and years of training. Everyone knows this. Even the villains know this. The playboy is a distraction, a bit of sleight of hand. It keeps people from looking my way when they start wondering just where Batman got the money to buy that fancy car of his."

Nodding, Clark stared at Bruce. He rolled those words around in his mind for a few seconds before turning in his seat. Leaning over, he pressed a chaste kiss to Bruce's lips. As he pulled away, he couldn't help but notice the arched eyebrow this garnered from a certain butler. "If it protects you, then it's important to me."

Instantly, Alfred's arched brow softened, smoothing out kindly. The effect traveled south until it reached his eyes, diminishing the small worry lines found there.

For his part, Bruce was not unaffected. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Have you always been this sappy or did it take practice?"

"Bruce…"

"Look, Clark. I really thought about your request. This is the best idea I could come up with. It has the potential to be a train we can ride for years. Once Lucius, corporate legal and my marketing department get done with it, this foundation will practically run itself, but will give us a perfect excuse to be in the same room, to go out for dinner, to meet in the middle of the week. So, what do you say?"

"I like it and I think Lois would have, too."

Taking Bruce's hand, he squeezed it tightly. Nodding, he pulled on the hand until the man connected to it settled against him. Leaning forward, Bruce brushed the back of his fingers across a smooth cheek as he said, "Alfred, circle downtown for us a few times before we take Mr. Kent back to work."

"Very good, sir."

Alfred made sure it took every minute remaining of that hour to return to The Daily Planet.

Once they returned to the garage, Alfred held the door open for Clark and stood beside him as he summoned the elevator. As the approaching signal sounded, he asked, "Master Clark, might I inquire as to whether you intend to join us at the Manor in the near future?"

"I do, indeed, Alfred."

"Splendid, sir." Extending his arm, he held the doors open as he mentioned, "I'll make sure to stock those puff pastries you liked so much during your last visit."

"I don't want to be any trouble."

"No trouble at all, sir."

"That'd be great then, Alfred. Thanks." Smiling warmly, Clark patted him firmly on the shoulder before boarding the elevator. As the doors closed, he waved shyly at Alfred, earning a warm smile in return.

Up in the pressroom, Clark spoke with Perry White. He explained how he might need some intermittent leave from time to time to work on the scholarship being created in Lois' name. As he told Perry the particulars of the endowment, he felt his voice catch as he spoke of how this foundation would be a lasting tribute to Lois. This charity, he contended, would afford Lois the respect and notoriety she craved so much in life.

By the time he was done, Perry was blinking back tears and placing sympathetic pats on Clark's back. With a single nod, Perry approved the leave as he flashed compassionate eyes. Standing up abruptly, he assured Clark to take all the time he needed. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he quickly turned away as he ordered Kent out of his office and back to work.

For the next several weeks, they met in Metropolis once or twice a week. These meetings started to get a lot of press shortly after they started. They both suspected Cat Grant tattled every time Clark left the office. So, they didn't restrict their time together to just the workweek. In fact, Clark spent an entire weekend at Wayne Manor in order to attend a charity dinner. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he heard the ten thousand dollar-a-plate price tag.

Of course, that reaction just made Bruce laugh.

Smoozing was never something Clark felt comfortable doing, but for the sake of the Lois Lane Memorial Scholarship Fund, he dealt with it. He shook hands. He made small talk while sipping champagne. Through it all, he dealt with the playboy, too. Behind closed doors, Bruce easily shoved the playboy in the corner, but pulled it back on like an old coat whenever people were around. Anyone. His secretary. The waitress at the corner café. Complete strangers on the street. At times, Clark marveled at how it was like flipping a switch – the ease with which the playboy could emerge.

Which was often.

Though Bruce and Clark were limited in their time together, Superman and Batman had every tragic circumstance and natural disaster in the world to serve as a good reason to see each other. They performed security duty together at the Watchtower. They assisted each other regularly while fighting crime. With their new connection in place, they found themselves at the bat cave during their downtime, more and more.

Quiet company, Clark would watch as Batman restocked both his and Robin's utility belts. He noticed how Robin's belt was packed first, then double-checked after Batman finished filling his own. Looking around the cave's dark corners, Clark noted the illuminated glass case holding Jason's old costume. He couldn't help but notice the way Bruce would momentarily pause every time he passed by it.

As the night would draw to an end, Alfred would emerge to offer a nightcap and a light snack. Seated at the small kitchen table, he marveled at how Alfred seemed to be the only person in the world capable of making Bruce blush. Perhaps, it was the wealth of history they shared or the ease with which Alfred revealed stories of a rambunctious Master Bruce as he placed more puff pastries on the table. Whatever it was; Clark welcomed Alfred's company and this fact did not go unnoticed by Bruce.

On the first night, Clark insisted Alfred leave the clean-up to him. With a pat on the back, Bruce agreed and sent Alfred to bed then proceeded to stand at the counter and quietly watch Clark wash the dishes. This became customary. For Clark, it meant that each trip to Wayne manor ended with him wiping dishwater off his hands as he concluded a mostly one-sided conversation.

Then one night, Batman called for back-up. Of course, Superman went right out. Afterwards at the bat cave, a very angry Dick demanded to know why he wasn't called. Words were exchanged. Most of them were either hurtful, condescending or both. In the end, it was clear Dick was with Barbara Gordon at the time the call went out. Shaking his head in disbelief, Dick stormed away, growling things about jealous bats and anti-social haters.

Stunned, Clark watched Batman just take it. Once the door to the manor sealed, Batman drew in a deep breath and then let out a great sigh. Head bowed, he went to the suit cabinet and started to disrobe. After he pulled the cape and cowl off, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, he looked over at Clark and said, "I don't want this life to consume him like it did me."

Amazing, how that Bat continued to knock him off balance with a few simple words.

At last, the night of the big gala arrived. Bruce loaned him a tux and bought him a new pair of shoes. Alfred fed them beforehand, schooling Clark in gala etiquette as he placed steaming bowls of coq au vin in front of his three charges. Dick joked that he was getting déjà vu as he remembered the exact same speech when he attended his first gala. Bruce just smiled, quietly nodding his head at Dick's words.

At the gala, the catering company hired for the event employed well dressed hostesses that escorted their guests to their seats. Clark, Bruce, Dick, Barbara Gordon, Commissioner Gordon and Mayor Hamilton Hill sat together at the head table. After a cleansing aperitif, the formal eight course dinner began. Toward the end of the sixth course, Clark stared as the plate from the cheese course was taken away and a small plate was placed before him with one petit four surrounded by four roasted almonds with their narrow ends pointed outwards in a perfect cross formation. Staring at the plate, Clark felt his stomach churn. It wasn't the frosted, layered confection. It wasn't the absurdity of such formality surrounding something that wouldn't fill the palm of his hand and would be considerably less satisfying than the trail mix it made him wish for.

No, that wasn't it at all.

"You ready for this?"

Looking at Bruce's concerned face, Clark swallowed hard and nodded once. A steady hand landed on his knee. As their eyes met, Bruce whispered, "Just be yourself."

As the staff placed coffee cup sets, Bruce stood up and approached the podium to the right and addressed the hall. "Mayor Hill, Commissioner Gordon, members of the Gotham City Council, esteemed guests and members of the press let me be the first to welcome you to the first annual gala for the Lois Lane Memorial Scholarship Fund. I would like to extend my personal thanks for your support of this worthy cause. A few months ago, we lost an amazing woman. Her dogged determination took her to the top of her field and to the ends of the earth. It is a privilege to be involved in an event that honors such a person. Now, I'm not the perfect person to speak about her. That would be her husband. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in welcoming Clark Kent to the podium."

To a refined applause, Clark willed himself to walk over to Bruce without tripping. At the podium, Bruce patted him once on the shoulder then backed away. Taking a deep breath, Clark pulled his speech cards out of his jacket pocket. "I'd like to also extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone attending this fundraiser. I know it would have meant a great deal to Lois to have so many noteworthy people in attendance at a function in her honor. When Mr. Wayne first approached me about establishing this foundation, I wasn't completely clear on how all of it would work. Now, to see it to fruition, I can say with certainty that Lois would have been proud to have this bear her name."

"Lois never attended college. In fact, she didn't graduate from high school. She was sixteen when she hustled her way into her first byline at the Daily Planet. Though her life turned out well, she always impressed on those around her the importance of education. She…"

Looking down at the cards in his hands, Clark sighed. Folding them in half, he shoved them back in his jacket pocket. Looking out at the audience, he placed his hands on the podium and continued. "Over the years, Lois told me about her childhood. She was an Army brat. It was a fact of which she was both fiercely proud and, at times, incredibly sad. From Kindergarten to high school, she attended eleven different schools in six different countries. The longest she ever spent in one place was a single complete school year."

"Like many children of our military personnel, she had a hard time making friends and spent a great deal of her childhood alone. During her father's deployments, she struggled to do homework while worrying about his safety. She often said it made her tough. However, she also admitted to me that it made it difficult for her to trust people. She blamed her lack of spelling skills on the transient nature of her school years, but she never let it hold her back. She was a living example of resilience. It is that very resilience, the kind found in military families across this country and on military bases all over this world that this foundation will reward."

"Ladies and gentlemen, through your donations, the children of active duty military personnel will have access to one-on-one tutoring to help them transition into new school districts. They will be able to attend college, pursue masters programs and achieve their dreams. The reality of military life is one of doing more with considerably less. No one knows this more than the children who live that reality everyday. The money raised here tonight will help those children who live with the instability and challenges unique to multiple deployments. It is through your generosity that the noble aims of this foundation will be achieved."

As the room filled with a roaring applause, Clark wrapped up his speech. "On behalf of myself, Lois' parents and sister, I want to extend my heartfelt thanks. Lois truly was an amazing woman who fought all her days to promote the ends of truth and justice. Through this foundation, her memory and courageous spirit will live on. Thank you and good night."

Suddenly, Bruce was back at his side. Clark received a pat on his back and an honest smile before being sent back to his seat. Bruce took over the night. At his command, the dining room doors opened onto the grand ballroom. The guests were encouraged to dance and make merry. Quickly, they rose and funneled out to the grand ballroom where catering staff waited to meet their needs and collect their money.

Once the guests were gone, Mayor Hill and Commissioner Gordon stood and talked shop in a quiet corner that afforded them a full view of the dance floor. Under the watchful eye of her father, Barbara slipped her hand around Dick's strong arm, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. As the happy couple started to dance, Clark and Bruce entered the ballroom.

Immediately, three dueling socialites surrounded Bruce. With a shrug of his shoulders, Bruce let himself be pulled away. Several members of the press came over and chatted up Clark, envious of his new connections to so many powerful people. Standing off to the side of the dance floor, he worked at keeping up the appearance of following the conversation surrounding him as his eyes followed Bruce around the hall.

One of the girls hanging on Bruce got tired of being number three and left only to be replaced by two others. The feminine posse attacked from all sides. Their heads were flung back from fake laughter and their lips stretched taut with even faker smiles. Their hands slid down his cheek, patted his arm and slid across his chest. One bold woman slid her hand under Bruce's jacket just as she pressed her lips to his. Clark watched the scene unfold with ever narrowing eyes.

Slowly, he backed away from his colleagues and headed for the nearest balcony. As he opened the French doors, he inhaled the clear night air deeply. As the doors closed with a loud swoosh, he crossed the stone patio, coming to rest at the stone wall surrounding it. Leaning over, he rested his elbows on the cold stone and deeply drank in the night air. He slowly dug a groove with an incessantly tapping finger as he heard the doors open.

"Alfred said he saw you come in here."

"Did he?"

Coming to stand beside Clark, Bruce replied, "How are you doing? Is the whole thing getting a little overwhelming?"

"You could say that."

Turning until his back rested against the wall, Bruce looked through the French doors. Pushing off of the wall, he grabbed Clark by the bicep. As they approached the glass panes, Bruce pointed at a set of open doors across the room that led to the manor's main entrance. "My parents used to throw lots of galas – one every couple of months. Do you see that set of doors across the way? Just past them, you can see the main staircase. I used to sit on that staircase and watch them attend to their guests. My mother would be so beautifully dressed, not a hair out of place. The highlight of the night was watching them dance, the silhouette they cast."

At that moment, Clark smiled and looked at Bruce. He could see the star struck boy Bruce once was still living in those icy blue eyes. Reveling in memories, Bruce could feel he was being watched. Shifting his eyes, he caught Clark staring. Quickly, he turned his head until their eyes met. A moment of stillness passed between them before Bruce backed away. He only took a couple steps before he heard Clark call after him.

"Bruce."

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"This really isn't the time or place."

"Is there ever a good time or place for a talk like this?"

"What is it?"

"I was watching those women out there, the ones hanging all over you. I have to admit – It bothered me."

"Okay," said Bruce as he crossed his arms over his chest. Turning to face Clark, he rocked back on his heels. "They don't mean anything to me. They're just part of the whole playboy mystique."

"I know that. Normally, I'm not the jealous type, but seeing them touch you and seeing you touch them back – It reminded me that you and I haven't been… close since that first night. We see each other every few days. It almost seems to occur on a schedule."

"Don't you require that?"

"Well...Yes. That's just it, Bruce. I kiss you. You touch me back. I start the contact and you finish it."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes. I understand that you probably feel responsible for me after everything. You try very hard to provide me with what I need, but I'm beginning to feel like just another mission to you."

"This started out of necessity. I saved your life and made it so that you would keep on living."

"This isn't just supposed to be about survival. You're my bondmate. I want more than to be your obligation."

"I've been respecting your boundaries. You told me that first night that sex was required to establish the bond, but not to maintain it. Since then, I've given you what you needed in the way of contact, but I haven't overstepped that. It was purposeful and there are two reasons for it. First, I'm just a substitute for the real thing. It has been blatantly obvious to me since that first night that you still love Lois. At the funeral, that time I found you at her desk, the way you spoke of her tonight underscores the love you feel for her. And, that's fine. Really. I'm okay with that. She was the love of your life. There is only a "we" because you needed someone to help you after her death and I was there. If she hadn't died, the two of you would still be together. This thing between us would never have happened. While I don't regret my actions, I'm not delusional either."

"That brings me to the second reason – None of this is real. Whatever you think you're feeling for me now is fake. It's a product of your condition. You want me because you need me to survive. I'm a drug that you're addicted to and nothing more. Any feelings you may think you're starting to feel for me are just cravings being misinterpreted."

Once Bruce finished speaking, silence filled the air between them. Executing a single stride, he never broke eye contact as he drew closer to Bruce. Slowly, he advanced with his arms lowered submissively, palms out and fingers splayed wide. Once mere inches stood between them, he whispered, "Yes, I still love Lois. I'll always love her, but, she's my past and you're my present. You're my bondmate now and you're wrong when you say the feelings I'm beginning to feel for you are fake."

"I loved Lois before the bond. The bond didn't make that love go away. It didn't replace it and it didn't keep it from growing a little more everyday. If I said the bond doesn't affect me, then we'd both know I was lying. Truth is, there were times with Lois when our schedules conflicted or she was away on business and I would feel the most incredible hunger for her due to the bond. I won't deny that, but the hunger didn't get in the way of my love for her and it doesn't affect the feelings I'm beginning to have for you."

"You can't know that, Clark."

"Don't tell me what I can't know. I know that in the last few months, we've shown parts of ourselves to each other that we normally keep hidden away. I've seen the parts of you that other people love about you and I know that you've seen the same in me. I can't say that what I'm feeling for you is love yet, but I know my feelings are real."

A thick veil of silence descended between them. They stood and stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like eternity. Finally, Bruce stepped away, heading for the French doors while he said, "We need to go back inside. Our guests will begin to feel neglected."

The party continued for two more hours. They spent it at opposite sides of the ballroom. At the end of the night, the guests left and the caterers cleaned out. Bruce sent Alfred to bed and bid goodnight to Dick as he left to take Barbara home. Alone for the first time since their talk on the balcony, they stood in the empty ballroom, staring directly at one another. Advancing on Clark quickly, Bruce pulled up within a couple inches of him and said, "I need to go out and patrol. You can see yourself out, right?"

"Bruce…"

"Look, Clark. Talking about my feelings is not something I do."

Shaking his head, Clark stood his ground. Bruce could see the disappointment in Clark's eyes, but he didn't look away. Deciding on a course of action, he lunged forward. With his left hand he grabbed the back of Clark's head while his right hand latched onto to his jaw. Pulling him forward, he kissed him roughly. As Clark's lips parted from shock, Bruce ran his tongue along those lips before sweeping into his mouth. As the kiss deepened, Clark's stiff arms melted, wrapping loosely around Bruce's torso.

Slowly, Bruce's right hand loosened, stroking down the wavy black hair until his fingers weaved into the curls at the hairline. At the same time, he relaxed the death grip he held on Clark's jaw and gently ran his fingertips up the jaw line and across the smooth expanse of his cheek. Cupping the soft flesh, Bruce ran his thumb across a high cheekbone.

By degrees, the kiss cooled until it dissolved into a series of drawn out pecks, their puckered lips reaching out for each other. With a final soft kiss and a couple gentle caresses, Bruce pulled away. Taking a step back, he looked at the shocked expression on Clark's face and said, "I need to go patrol now."

Turning on his heel, he spun away fluidly, leaving a stunned silent man in his wake.


	4. Temperance

**Temperance**

Two months passed and they never spoke of that night. They met in Metropolis for lunch, the occasional dinner. Watchtower duty still filled designated evenings. Their early mornings began in the bat cave and ended on one of the mansion's many balconies. There were kisses exchanged, lingering touches as well, but the memory of _that_ kiss hung in the air between them.

Those surrounding them knew something was up. Martha Kent called her son one night and, upon hearing the loneliness in his voice, ordered him to come to Smallville for the night. By the time he arrived, she had a pot of coffee ready with mugs waiting nearby and a couple blankets on the sofa. She didn't press. She just let him talk. By the time the hall clock struck midnight, he was all talked out. Guiding him up the stairs, she led him to his old bedroom. At his door, she kissed his cheek and offered her only bit of advice for the night, "Son, if you love him that much, why don't you just tell him that already?"

Then, she was gone. Down the hall before he could disagree, before he could remind her that he never said he loved Bruce.

In Gotham, the members of the bat family did what they do best - They plotted in secret. Huddled around the kitchen table, Alfred, Dick and Barbara conspired how to get these two stubborn men together. It took several meetings and a couple close calls when they feared Bruce uncovered their plot, but they managed to set up all the pieces on the board. Finally, just a couple moves remained to seize the king.

During one of Clark's visits to the mansion in late October, Alfred let it slip that he intended to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with his long time female friend, Maggie. All the announcement garnered out of Bruce was a pause as he lifted his cup up to his lips. Clark arched an eyebrow in Bruce's general direction and continued to look at him for the rest of the night. As Alfred left the kitchen and the dishes behind, he couldn't keep his lips from twisting up in a devious fashion.

A few days later, Robin and Batgirl finished their patrol at the bat cave. After parking their motorcycles, they waved at Clark who they noticed was waiting once again for Bruce to finish updating his duty logs and villain background files. As they passed by him, Barbara made a point to say, "Don't forget to bring both a pumpkin pie and a high-top Dutch apple pie. That's very important. A regular crust simply will never do."

Casually, Clark asked, "Are you two planning a picnic?"

"Nah," replied Dick as he shook his head. Cocking a thumb in Barbara's direction, he explained, "I'm going to Barb's house for Thanksgiving. Meeting the extended family. Wish me luck."

"You got it," answered Clark as he watched Barbara turn to face Dick, tapping a finger against his chest.

"Meeting my family isn't a punishment."

"No, but it is a test."

"Keep it up and it'll be a test you'll fail."

"Ahh, come on, Barb. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Uh-huh. Just watch, you'll be spending Thanksgiving here with Bruce and Alfred again if you're not careful."

With that, she marched off. Punching in the secret passage code, she left the cave without ever looking back.

Left behind, Dick rubbed the back of his head as he said, "Boy, I better go smooth some ruffled feathers."

"Dick, wait," called out Clark. Walking over to Dick, he asked quietly, "You aren't going to be here at all on Thanksgiving?"

"No."

"What about Bruce?"

"Don't worry about Bruce. He's got Alfred and they have an odd sort of ritual."

"Ritual?"

"Yeah. Bruce goes out on patrol. He comes back. Alfred prepares something light for dinner. Afterwards, he goes out to patrol some more. I've been going along with it since I was twelve years old and I'm desperate for a real turkey dinner, so I better catch up with Barb before she leaves."

Quickly, Dick sprinted up the stairs, punched in the door code and squeezed through before it finished opening all the way. As he made it to the hallway, he looked back to see Clark chewing on his lower lip and looking over his shoulder at Bruce. Pumping his fist in the air, he let out a small cheer before a hand snaked out and drew him into a dark corner. As he came face to face with his favorite redhead, he heard her ask, "Do you think he took the bait?"

Nodding, Dick rubbed his cheek against the feminine arms winding around his neck. Leaning in, he kissed her before whispering, "Hook, line and sinker."

It took three days for their plan to bear fruit. It was a very long three days. In the end, the only part of their plan not meticulously laid out involved Clark. Would he ask the question? Would he make Bruce an offer? Dick and Barb crossed their fingers and silently hoped. Meanwhile, Alfred decided to wait and see. For his part, this escapade doubled as a test. If Clark could hear all he did and not act, then, no matter how super his powers, he simply wasn't worthy of Bruce.

Finally, the moment came. Of course, it all went down in the bat cave. Dick and Barbara were performing regular maintenance on their bikes. Alfred was idly dusting the treasures and mementos of villains past when they heard the batmobile come roaring down the entranceway. They all turned from what they were doing and watched as the car came to a screeching halt. The hatch opened and Batman jumped out. Quickly, he crossed to the computer station. He opened his reports just as Superman flew into the cave.

Landing softly, Clark stormed over to Batman and shouted, "What the hell was that? I've seen you do some crazy things, but that guy could have died."

"I disagree," he replied, never turning from the computer screen. "His life was never in danger. You were there and I knew you'd catch him."

"So you dropped him off a eighty story building just because you felt like it?"

"Something like that."

"That's a lie," countered Clark. Advancing on Batman, he spun the computer chair around. Leaning down, he invaded his personal space. "I know you better than that. There were other motivations at play here. You were trying to get rid of me all night. What is it, Bruce? Did I do something? I just don't get it. I mean, things started out pretty normally tonight. We had Watchtower duty. It was pretty uneventful. We came off shift and you started trying to shake me off. What did I do?"

In response, Batman laced his fingers together and rested his hands over his chest.

"Come on!" Throwing his hands in the air, Clark stared at the jagged rocks of the cave's ceiling. "At the Watchtower, we just talked. Most of the league wasn't even there. We were alone in the control room. I asked you about your plans for Thanksgiv-"

Looking down, his arms fell limply to his sides. His eyes grew sadder by degrees until finally he shook his head. Taking a step back, he whispered, "That's it. That's what's bothering you. I invited you to my parent's house for Thanksgiving and you freaked. That's it. Isn't it? Well, I didn't realize it would bother you so much. I'm sorry I asked."

Turning, he nodded at Dick, Barbara and Alfred in turn. Then, he took three steps, a bounce and flew away.

The cave was deadly silent for a few minutes. The three spectators shared worried glances as Batman turned his chair and continued to work. Alfred made a move in his direction and looked as if he was going to initiate contact when a red blinking light appeared on the screen. Immediately, Batman turned and jumped from his seat. As he made his way to the batmobile, he barked, "Robin, Batgirl, suit up! Security alarms just went off in one of the warehouses down at the wharf."

Rushing to the uniform cabinet, Dick called back, "Batman, wait for me. My bike's not ready. I'll ride with you."

"Hurry up."

As he put on his mask, Dick exchanged knowing looks with Barbara. Running over to the batmobile, he jumped in, falling back on the seatback as Batman closed the hatch and sped out of the cave. Checking out the rearview cam, Dick saw the headlight from Batgirl's bike illuminating the cave opening. Looking back at the road ahead, he cleared his throat. "So, Bruce. What was that all about?"

The only response he received was silence.

"It's a little hard to ignore an angry Superman."

"I'm not discussing this with you."

Shifting in his seat, Robin crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. You don't want to talk, then listen for once. You're stubborn. You're mean. You're confusing as hell. You surround yourself with people, but you're determined to be alone. You could have cut him just a little slack. I mean, really, Bruce. Would it have killed you to treat him just a little bit better than you do the rest of us?"

"I told you-"

"I know. I know. You're not discussing this with me. I got that. Here's something you don't get - You're setting yourself up for a life of solitude. You need to start looking at the writing on the wall. Alfred isn't getting any younger. He's not going to live forever. Barbara and I are in our junior year of college, now. You need to realize that we're already talking about the future we're going to share someday."

"Good for you," Batman growled in response. A moment later, he held the steering wheel tighter as he said, "Really, Dick. It's good. You two, being together, is a good thing."

"Bruce, how can you say that about us and not want that a little for yourself? You must know that at this rate, he's going to give up on you. Time is going to have its way with Alfred. Barb and I are going to move on. Bruce, I don't want to see you end up alone."

At those words, Batman squared his shoulders and flexed his fingers. With a heavy sigh, Dick looked out the passenger side and watched the wharf come into view.

Parking the Batmobile two warehouses away from the one in question, Batman and Robin jumped from the vehicle. Tapping his ear once, Batman tested his earpiece, "Batgirl, do you hear me?"

"Roger that, Batman. What is your position?"

"Two warehouses south of the target. Where are you?"

"Twenty feet north of target."

"Can you see anything?"

"Yes, Batman, this warehouse belongs to Axiom Pharmaceutical. I happen to know it's full of drugs ready for shipment. On top of that, they keep a functioning lab in there."

"They deal mostly in cancer drugs and experimental therapies - not the kind of thing in which your average addict would take an interest."

"Correct, Robin, but they also met out a quiet production of military grade nerve toxins and paralytic sprays. Batgirl take the high road. Robin recon the points of entry, infiltrate and await further instruction."

"Got it," they answered together.

With a nod, they made their move. Darting from shadow to shadow, Batman came to rest at the southeast corner of the warehouse next to the target. From his vantage point, he could easily see through the open bay doors at the activity inside the building. Then, two henchmen came out. Pulling out cigarettes, they shared a lighter and said, "I agree with you, Charlie. Hauling boxes is a sucker game."

Sucking down a deep drag, Charlie replied, "I tell ya, it's just not respectable work for two honest-to-god tough guys like you and me."

"We should blow this place, Frank. I heard the Joker is looking for a few new guys."

"Nah, that nut job is even worse than the one we're working for now."

"What are you two doing out here? Get back inside and finish loading the truck!"

Enveloped in the awesome shadow of one of Gotham's worst criminals, the two men stamped out their cigarettes. Muttering apologies under their breath, they quickly reentered the warehouse leaving Two-Face standing in the doorway. With a sneer and a growl, Harvey shook his head and sighed, "It's so hard to find good help these days."

Suddenly, a noise from above grabbed his attention. As dust and pebbles fell onto his upturned face, he watched a barn owl fly off the roof. He followed its departure then he turned and surveyed the surrounding darkness. One last pause and he walked back inside.

Looking up, Batman looked through his night vision specs at the roof. From that high perch, Batgirl's masked face looked back at him. She gave a contrite shrug of her shoulders and an accusatory nod in the direction of the owl. Batman stilled her with a shake of his head. Giving the spiraling signal for her to enter from the roof, he crossed over quickly to the warehouse doors.

Slipping inside, Batman hugged the shadows. Behind stacks of mailing crates, he stood silently and observed the activity before him. As he watched a dozen henchmen loading what appeared to be heavy cases into the back of a moving van, he could hear Robin and Batgirl banter over the earpiece.

"I see London, I see France..."

"Ooh... Where did you learn that? Third grade?"

"Nah, that's pure home school, honey."

"So, you're saying your Mother taught you that?"

"She was progressive that way."

"Right."

"Really. She used to hang upside down just like you are now and call class in session."

"Very innovative."

"Yeah, but I don't remember liking the view as much as I do now."

"Flatterer."

"You two, get your heads back on the mission."

"Yeah, Batman."

"Sorry, Batman."

Slowly, he advanced on the scene. Quietly, he listened to the criminal's conversations with his bat-amplifier. As he guessed, they were loading up the paralytic agent. Preparing for the fight ahead, he started to count the henchman, keeping Harvey, no, Two-Face, in view. Just as he was going to signal his crew, A loud roar of laughter filled the warehouse. As several hoots and cheers bounced off the walls, a voice rang out. "Looks like we have a bat in our belfry, boys."

"Yeah, a girl bat."

"Come on, honey. Let's get a good look at you."

"Bitch! She kicked me."

"Somebody get her legs."

Roughly, they hoisted her up by her flaying limbs. As she struggled, Batgirl remained silent save for the occasional grunt as she strained against her captors. Once they reached Two-Face, the men dropped her to her feet and then pushed her to her knees.

"What do we have here?"

"I found her up on the catwalk, boss."

Grabbing her red hair, he tugged her head back. As her defiant eyes met his, he sneered, "Now, what are we going to do with you?"

"We've got a few ideas, boss."

As the men broke out in fresh laughter, Two-Face watched her face. He saw no fear and that told him everything he needed to know. Shaking his hand free of her hair, he took a step back. As his eyes swept the warehouse, he straightened out the lapels of his jacket as he pulled out his coin. Flicking it up, he caught it in mid air. Opening his hand, he saw a scarred face sitting in the palm of his hand.

"It's not your lucky day. Just one last chance for you," said Two-Face. Turning in a circle, he called out to the darkness. "Batman! Where are you, Batman. I know you're out there."

Nothing. Not a single sound.

"Maybe he needs a little more convincing." Looking back at Batgirl, he whispered, "Let's give it to him, shall we?"

"Charlie and Frank. You're going to continue loading boxes. Get going. As for the rest of you - She's all yours. Just do me a favor."

"Anything, boss."

"Make her scream."

Up in the rafters, Robin crouched down on a beam. Painfully, he slammed his fist against the wood beneath his feet. As he watched them drag her away, he ground his teeth together. As they encircled her, he hissed, "What's the plan, Batman?"

"Stay down for now, Robin."

"What? We've got to help her. We've got to do something."

"If you go charging in now, you'll get caught. That's exactly what Two-Face is expecting."

As they debated, on the ground floor, things were getting worse for Batgirl. One of the men stood in front of her and barked orders.

"Get a hold of her. Her legs, too, stupid. That's right. That's nice."

Advancing until he was flush against her, he ran a hand down her body. Grabbing at her hip, he said, "This outfit doesn't leave anything to the imagination. Might as well take it off."

From her hip, his hand quickly shot up and seized the bat symbol on her chest. Pulling the fabric away, he gracefully sliced through it. As pink skin peeked out from the slash, he joked, "Well, that's a good start."

From above, a blur passed between the men. A moment later, screaming could be heard, but it wasn't Batgirl's. The man who slashed her suit dropped his knife and stumbled away, yanking a small throwing knife from his wrist.

Swinging down, Robin kicked three different heads before gracefully rolling and springing to his feet. The distraction was enough for Batgirl to shake free of one of her captors and land a solid blow to his groin. For a moment, their eyes met gleefully before they returned their attention to the fight, a battle over which they seemed to be drawing an upper hand.

Unfortunately, two things happened to turn the tide against them. One, Two-Face drew a gun. Then, Charlie and Frank cracked open one of the crates. As Batgirl spun away from a swung fist, Frank raised the paralytic spray and squeezed. A perfect shot, the chemical hit her directly in the face. Seeing Batgirl go down was just the distraction Robin didn't need. Suddenly, all the henchmen descended on him, eventually overpowering him. As they dragged Robin back to his feet, Two-Face walked up to him and placed the barrel of the gun right under his chin.

In the shadows, Batman could only shake his head. This was the problem with mixing relationships and crime fighting, he mused; Love always turned out to be more powerful than years of training. Looking up, he watched as Two-Face ordered Robin and Batgirl be trussed up a mere foot over two large chemical vats. Quickly, he zoomed in his bat-goggles on the names of the chemicals: formaldehyde and mercury. He flinched as he recognized them as corrosive agents.

Looking over Batgirl and Robin, he could clearly see the paralytic was still in effect as Batgirl's eyes remained dull and unblinking. As for Robin, he was looking away from Batman's position and imperceptibly shook his head from side to side. Then, Robin brought his gaze to bear directly down on Batman's position and jerked his head toward Batgirl and the message was clear.

"Now, I have you both. Let's see who dies first," chimed in Two-Face, breaking their connection. Standing on the stairs adjacent to the vats, he bowed toward Batgirl and said, "Ladies first."

Gracefully, the coin floated up in the air. As it made its way back down, Batman started running scenarios in his head. Taking into account all the present variables, he ran through the possible outcomes of his actions or inaction. Between the rate of falling objects, the number of henchman, the paralytic spray and Two-Face himself, Batman couldn't find an outcome with a positive end. The best scenario he envisioned would save Robin and Batgirl, but would most likely result in his own death or permanent injury.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared to do just that. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out of the shadows just as the coin landed in Two-Face's upturned palm. Suddenly, a red and blue blur flew by. Glancing at the vats, his suspicions were confirmed at the sight of the limp, dangling ropes swinging in the breeze. Instantly, he jumped into the fray. Without the complication of hostages, he battled freely. His gas mask protected him from the spray. His reinforced gloves guarded his knuckles as he rendered men unconscious. Afterwards, he was glad he packed extra handcuffs when he saw how many henchmen lay scattered on the floor.

As the police arrived, Batman retreated in the direction he saw the blur head earlier. At the back of the warehouse, he saw Robin holding Batgirl who was still apparently under the effects of the spray. Walking up to them, he pulled out a rectangular box from his utility belt. Silently, he punched in a combination of buttons and waited. A minute later, a green light flashed and he produced a small hypodermic needle from another compartment. Inserting the needle into a small hole, he filled the chamber. Returning the device to his belt, he crossed over to Batgirl and injected her in the arm.

For a minute, they knelt in silence - Robin transfixed on Batgirl's frozen face. Finally, she blinked. Next, she wiggled the fingers clutched in Robin's hand. Then, she sat up. Slowly, she looked up at Batman only to look past him. She didn't need to say who she saw. Batman already knew. Never turning around, he stood up and said, "You'll be fit to ride your motorcycle soon. The police have this in hand. Let's go."

There was no response. They both looked past him. They continued to sit as if in a trance. Fury rising in Batman's heart, he ordered, "Now."

Suddenly, they jumped to their feet. They made it most of the way to the side entrance before a soft voice whispered, "Bru-Batman."

Batman didn't turn around. He didn't respond at all. He just walked away, heading for the side entrance.

Arriving at the bat cave, Batman slammed the batmobile into park and punched the release button for the hatch. Once free, he marched from the cavern. He said not a word as he entered in the door code and made his way into the manor.

Behind him, Dick jumped from the car and ran across the cave to where Barbara sat stiffly on her idling bike. As he approached her, he saw the hand placed flat across the tear in her costume. Gently, he touched her on the shoulder. Instantly, she turned down the ignition and kicked out the stand, putting the engine to rest. Swinging her leg over the handlebars, she pushed off the bike and jumped into his arms.

He held her tightly, gently rocking her back and forth. As he turned around, he saw Clark standing there. Their eyes locked and Dick let his gratitude show. With a nod of his head and a whispered thank you, he went back to holding Barbara, nuzzling into her hair and kissing her shoulder.

Turning away from the desperate scene, Clark zeroed in on the key pad by the door. With resolve, he entered the manor. For a moment, he scanned the walls and hallways beyond. With the aid of his x-ray vision, he located Bruce and started walking. As he approached Bruce's bedroom, a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Master Clark?"

"Alfred."

"Were you looking for Master Bruce?"

"Well...I've already found him."

"I see."

"Sorry."

"No apologies are necessary, sir."

Those words spoken, Clark turned back down the hall. He only made it a couple steps before again he heard:

"Master Clark."

Turning around, he faced Alfred again. The man's age was showing on his face in a way it never had before. Weary, but resolved, Alfred walked up to him and looked him in the eye. "Master Bruce can be a difficult man."

"Yes, he can."

"It is said that patience is a virtue. With Master Bruce, it is often necessary to be as virtuous as possible."

"Thank you, Alfred," said Clark as he placed a warm pat on the man's shoulder. "I'll keep that in mind."

Proceeding down the hall, Clark came to stand directly in front of Bruce's door. Turning the doorknob, he didn't enter the room.

"Don't come in!"

Squaring his shoulders, as well as his resolve, Clark pushed the door open. Still standing in the doorway, he watched Bruce pull on his robe, tying the sash with a fierce yank.

"Get out!"

"No."

"Leave. Now," warned Bruce as he stepped forward, pivoting his hips as he tied another knot. Widening his stance, he brought his tight fists down, level with his hips.

"I'm staying," replied Clark. Stepping into the room, he never broke eye contact as he closed the door behind him.

"You have no right. You had no right! To be here. To be in that place. To be in my city. To get in the way of my mission."

"You're wrong. I had every right."

"The hell you did!" yelled Bruce as he advanced on Clark's position. "Gotham is mine and I can take care of her in my own way. You had no right to interfere. I didn't call for you and I didn't ask for your help."

"No, you didn't, but I still had every right to be there."

"So self-righteous. That's all you are. A god-like presence that runs around trying to fulfill all his inner boy scout dreams. Well, I didn't ask for you to come here and I have no intention of placing flowers at your feet."

"I intervened and I would do it again. I stepped in because when we established the Justice League it was under the premise that we could do more good together than apart. That in unity there was strength. Tell me, Bruce - Did you ever believe in that?"

Several feet separating them, Bruce remained silent, but not motionless. His tightly wound hands loosened, until they hung limply by his sides.

"As for Dick and Barbara, it wasn't really about them. It was all about you. I know you, Bruce. I know you. It would kill you to lose another son. I could hear the urgency in your heartbeat. I could tell what you were planning to do."

"You were listening to my heartbeat? Who gave you permission to do that?"

"No one did?" Taking a couple steps back, Clark was suddenly unsure as Bruce stormed up to him.

"Do you use it as a beacon? Do you use it to keep tabs on me? Am I under your constant surveillance?"

As Bruce pressed into his personal space, he explained, "It's not like that. It really isn't. It's just something I do. I've done it for as long as I can remember. I listen to the heartbeats of all the people I love. I'm listening to my parent's heartbeats, right now, as we speak."

Curiously, he watched as Bruce's whole body tensed. Then, he watched as all the tension melted away. Slowly, Bruce took first one step, then another backwards. Trying to figure out why a distinct deer in the headlights expression momentarily crossed Bruce's face, Clark went over the previous exchange. As he recalled his last statement, his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide.

Meeting Bruce's steady gaze, Clark made a decision. Palms out, he slowly brought his hands up. Taking a moment, he cleared his throat and confirmed, "Yes, I meant it. It isn't exactly how I planned on telling you, but it's true. I love you."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it. Even my Mother knows so it has to be true."

"You told your Mother?"

"No. Worse. She told me."

With that, Bruce tilted his head back. Taking a step back, he looked away just as a short, cut-off snort breeched his defenses. Slowly, by degrees, the soft chuckles shook his frame harder and harder until he was laughing out loud. Watching him in disbelief, Clark couldn't fight the infectious nature of Bruce's laughter. Leaning over, he also gave in to the mirth bubbling up to overflowing.

After several seconds, Bruce started to regain his composure. Placing a solid hand flat against Clark's left cheek, he pulled up until their eyes met. Quickly, he brought his left hand up, placing his fingertips along a shuddering chin. Closing any remaining distance between them, he pressed a soft kiss to Clark's lips.

After that, things moved rather quickly. Knots were untied. A uniform was pulled off, thrown to the floor to rest beside the robe already there. Two bodies fell in a frantic, ungraceful way, bouncing on the mattress. Clark's hands found their way along Bruce's scarred skin, moving steadily lower. The question in Bruce's eyes was loud and clear and Clark never hesitated as he nodded in assent.

Hours later, their heads rested on pillows. Spooning, Clark felt Bruce press against his back, felt him shifting snugly inside him. Still trembling from everything they just did, his skin danced as Bruce ran a single fingertip across the smooth expanse of his upper thigh. Leaning back, he exposed the nape of his neck as Bruce pressed gentle kisses along his shoulder.

Lazily, soft kisses danced from shoulder to neck to earlobe. Letting his breath brush across the round curl of the ear, Bruce nuzzled the damp hair beneath his left cheek. As the final bits of energy departed his body, he wrapped his arm tightly around Clark's waist and whispered, "So, what exactly does your Mother serve for Thanksgiving?"


End file.
